


Fantasie-Impromptu

by Fei_Mimi



Category: classical music - Fandom - Fandom
Genre: AU, Classical Music, Coffee Shop, M/M, Modern AU, Music, coffee shop AU, composer, pianist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:19:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27724052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fei_Mimi/pseuds/Fei_Mimi
Summary: Fantasie-Impromptu, Op. 66A classical! composers: Liszt x Chopin modern coffee shop au where Liszt is a new employee at a café that Chopin frequents at.Chopin is a music loving pianist-composer who is currently struggling to make money out of his pieces unlike he used to. One day, a new employee at a coffee shop he frequents at tries to make friends with him until he finds it in himself: a muse for his works, and ends up composing his magnum opus that brings him back to the top of the classical music scene.But was leaving behind the only person he had ever truly loved really worth all the fame and fortune?
Relationships: Bestfriends - Relationship, Boyfriends - Relationship, Friends - Relationship, friends to lovers - Relationship
Comments: 17
Kudos: 17





	1. Prelude

To my dearest readers,  
This is the very first fan fiction I have ever written and it is with deepest gratitude and utmost honour that I get to share the little theatres my mind likes to hold in my head during the darks of the night, when I am not but surrounded by the running films in my brain like predator against prey, about the little stories I'd only ever wish to happen in a universe I get to create all on my own - head cannons put into writing and then developed into full stories.   
It had taken me a considerable amount of time, planning about what I would like to become this piece of fiction's plot, and with my effort and wear, I hope you all enjoy the adventures I'd like you to partake in - a story of how a new employee manages to break down the walls of a cold coffee shop regular, and then piece them all back together, bit by bit, making both of them whole, no longer on their own, but two people now as one, hearts beating on time to their own symphony of sweet amour.  
If you'd kindly allow it,  
I hope to see you on the other side!   
~~~~~  
Simplified version:  
Guys, this is my very first fanfic, pls be gentle omg sksks yes I'm a huge hoe for Franz Liszt and Frédéric Chopin (tho in this story, I'll be using his alternate spelling - Fryderyk - bec my laptop doesn't support the "é" character sksks).  
It's going to be a modern coffee shop au where Liszt will be a new employee at a coffee shop that Chopin frequents at and things will start to build from there.  
I hope you guys actually make it to the end hahaha 😅🥺🥺  
~~~~~  
Little disclaimer:  
I do not own any of the characters, classical pieces, music, art, etc. that might be mentioned in the story, and historical scenes and references may also not be accurate (since this is, after all, a modern au).  
The only thing I own is the plot and the writing, please do not copy uwu.  
Enjoy~!!  
\- 菲咪咪 (Fei Mimi) 🌸💕


	2. I. Medium Roast, Two Cups of Milk, And Extra Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chopin walks in his favourite cafe and meets a man who somehow manages to rudely intrude into his very own personal space.

_The strong scent of coffee, the distant whirring of cold air conditioner, the faint melodies of piano music echoing through the walls of a familiar café. It's late in the afternoon and they're playing Beethoven today, that's a bit odd. They've been playing nothing but Schumann all week._

These thoughts all dance through Fryderyk's mind as he takes a step closer to the cashier, a short line of customers slowly forming from his back as with little to no effort he reaches the counter and a little "May I take your order, sir?" is heard.

Fryderyk Chopin, a man a bit not over 5 feet and 6, is a regular at this café. He's been coming here ordering the exact same thing for the past three years and heck, all the baristas know exactly when he arrives and what he wants, it was practically muscle memory at this point.

But to say that now of all days, the guy at the counter asks for his order only after three years of loyalty, believe him when he tells you, he is at the slightest bit, _very_ shocked.

"Hm? Oh-umm well." Fryderyk was taken aback and suddenly surprise was a stone caught in his throat, keeping words of thought at bay. He never usually engaged in any type of social interaction before other than the casual "here's your order" and whatnot, but the ordering a drink part was almost always skipped.

Perhaps he was a bit shy right then and there, but naming an order he'd usually get without saying a word? Even that was already hard enough for him today. So, Fryderyk did nothing but pause.

"Oh! Are you new here? Maybe I can interest you in some of our café specials, sir?" the man at the counter said, a palpable smile spread across his lips, eyes sparkling with childish innocence and cheeks just a tad bit tinted with warmth. "Uh- no. I uh, I'll just take a medium roast, two cups of milk, and some extra sugar please." Fryderyk manages to utter, maybe a bit too fast, but luckily the barista catches on to it.

The barista only hums and nods with a smile as Fryderyk takes a number and readies to find an empty table, only, the voice starts to sound again, "Wait! I uh, I'm going to need your name, sir? For your order?" that smile still intact and something about that grin sort of puts poor Fryderyk's mind off in a bit of a stir. Totally unintentional, but real nonetheless.

"You can just write Chopin." Fryderyk says with a tough act despite the disorientation, eyes deep and his glare unintentionally so dagger esque.

He furrows his eyebrows and walks away, beelines into his usual spot in the café: by the window at the furthest corner. Fryderyk actually enjoys the glimmer of light there from the outside at that table. In the late afternoon, it wouldn't be too sunny and the corner was far enough so he shouldn't have to deal with any more people than necessary.

He plops down to his seat, brows still furrowed as he lands into a slouch, and a long sigh escapes his lips.

"What's up with him?" the barista that had entertained him earlier, who is now so _obviously_ stealing glances at Fryderyk, tries whispering to his shift partner, Hector Berlioz, who was currently brewing up some more orders. "Who? Chopin?" Berlioz asks in reply.

"Yeah, him. He looks so... Sad? Angry? _Sangry_?"

"You know Franz, I really think that sometimes it's just best you shut up."

He scoffs at this, "What do you mean?" the man says, feigning disdain.

"Sangry? Really?"

The guy, apparently called Franz, chuckles heartily at this, a toothy grin and his eyes turning into upward crescents as his shoulders bounce just the slightest bit up and down with every giggle that escapes his mouth. Fryderyk catches a brief glimpse of this, but immediately looks away.

"Come on man, I mean, just look at him?" Franz takes a peek again, luckily right after Fryderyk had already turned his gaze, "All pale and _sangry,_ and he even forgot to mention his name!" he says to Berlioz, "I mean, at least he's kinda cute, but..."

"Shut up Franz, it's only your first day here, don't be like that." and Franz rolls his eyes playfully, "I don't really expect you to know since you're new, but he's our best regular in the café. 'Mr. Medium Roast' is what the others call him. He's been around for maybe two, three years? And he a _lways_ leaves a tip so-"

"Huh? Three years? Woah. What does he usually do?" Franz quips, curiosity taking over like a wide eyed child, as Hector tried to explain, forcing patience to cover himself up like a warm blanket against the scalding urge of reprimanding the new employee by his side for interrupting. And so he continues the chat.

"Do? Well, he's a quiet one. Never really says anything, so I don't know. No one really knows anything about him either, aside from his order and his name. Chopin." Berlioz pauses for a brief moment, looks at Franz and snatches just the quickest glance from behind him, at Chopin specifically, before turning back to Franz and saying, "Honestly though, I think he just glared at you."

At this, Franz' eyes turn saucer-wide with a pale mixture of shock and fear getting at his irises. _First day at work and I've already made a customer upset?_ \- Franz thinks as he turns his head to the side a bit too fast, he feared whiplash, but Fryderyk was now staring at his laptop with a huge frown, like it had been cursing him for the last entire lifetime, and a clear, "Ha, very funny, Berlioz." is said as he reckons it to be a joke.

"He was, I swear! But don't worry, you probably just gave him a bit of a shock there. Though you know, you're dead meat if you really do upset a regular like him, right? You're the first person to ever ask him his order in the last few years lol. Better start memorizing." Berlioz remarks.

"His order?"

"Yeah, medium roast with two cups of milk and double the sugar."

"Extra sugar." Franz corrects him.

"Whatever man, it's the same." Berlioz shrugs him off, "Everyone knows his order." he adds all matter-of-factly, but Franz only hums in response as they both finish up the coffee they were brewing. He picks up his permanent marker off the table counter and scribbles the word "Shohppan" at the front of a paper cup.

He looks at his work for a while and reads the name he's written, "Shohppan", remembering to make mental notes about what his order should be and all, tucking the information securely at the core of his mind.

Now, Franz would usually (as he was taught) go on to call the customers' names for them to get their coffee at the counter, but Chopin's was the last one they brewed - something Franz thought he could take advantage of, granted that they had no more customers standing in line, waiting.

He couldn't quite pin point what it was about this "Shohppan" man but something about him quite intrigued Franz - like an alluring pull of some sort, north against south, so mesmerizing and strong, but then at the same time, it was also something like an annoying pet scratching repeatedly upon the doors of his chest begging to get in, all fun and games - so he decides to take it upon himself to bring the hot cup of coffee to this "Shohppan" personally, _because that's just how things go, apparently._

He takes a step, followed by another, his shoes echoing loud in his ears like it was the only think he could hear, and for some reason, Franz couldn't bring it upon himself to stop smiling as he approached Fryderyk, like a giggly child on Christmas day waking up to the knowledge of gifts under the tree - Franz was anticipating something he didn't know, but he quite liked the company of this random excitement.

"Hello! Here's your order!" Franz says taking the initiative to put the cup down at Fryderyk's table and smile at him like it was part of his job.

"Uh, thanks?" Fryderyk replies. He doesn't move though. Both of them actually. They just stay still - Chopin with his eyebrows still furrowed like how it had been for the past 10 minutes and staring at Franz' smile, wondering why the other hasn't left yet. "D-do you need anything?" Chopin barely manages to ask.

"Who, me? Nah, not really." He says all nonchalantly like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh... Okay." Fryderyk replies, confused to the core as he tries to ignore the other's presence, hoping he'll leave if he does exactly just that.

However, for some who-knows-what reason, goddamn Franz had the _audacity_ to pull out the chair across Chopin and sit down instead, torso leaning on the table and chin resting on his hand like it was _the most normal thing to do... To a person he's never met... To a customer, nonetheless!_

"Excuse me, why are you sitting down?" Fryderyk asks, spite obvious in his voice as his gaze turns unwelcoming and sharp. His face turns into a whole new expression. His pale skin was growing red with chagrin, screaming with thoughts of, _"What in Bach's name?"_ and if he could furrow his eyebrows any more, he swears he probably had already done so.

Today was not exactly a good day for Fryderyk. Another day where he fails to pass up and publish a single one of his pieces. Not even his teacher would dare look him in the eye, knowing all too well that the music Fryderyk wrote was "rubbish" - or so his teacher would call it. The shame would be too harsh for his teacher's eyes. And ears.

But whatever, Fryderyk didn't want to be messed around with right now. He needed to come up with new themes and conflicting melodic ideas to make up another sonata that he hopes his teacher won't turn his back on to.

He needs to sell, and he needs to sell quick. A musician with no name, no money, no anything - Fryderyk wanted to escape that damned kismet. And he wanted to do it ASAP.

"Well I got tired of standing up, so I thought maybe I'd take a seat. Anyway you look like you could use the company. This seat isn't taken, is it?" Franz asks all casually, totally contrastive to that of Fryderyk's mood, and he speaks as if they've known each other for ages, wide smile and all.

Franz doesn't actually know it himself - where he got this random burst of confidence from, but he's oozing with it. I mean, Franz had never really been the shy type before, but he wasn't exactly this level of friendly either.

Yet somehow, he couldn't feel the tiniest urge to hesitate when the circumstance called for this man. Chopin seemed like an interesting fellow to him. It was so random, he swears, but he kind of wants to know more about "Mr. Medium Roast" as well.

At this point, Fryderyk's mind goes haywire. _Why is this guy still here? Can't he see I want to be alone? Why does he keep smiling like that? I have work to do!_

He doesn't know how to make the employee go away, so he continues to ignore him instead, hoping he'd get the hint. But Franz, like the piece of annoying gum that he was, stuck to Fryderyk's hair and there was absolutely no way he could shake him off in an instant without a little help. _He persisted -_ that Franz did.

So with a bit of a sigh, Fryderyk takes the warm cup of coffee in his hands and slowly lifts the rim up to his lips, hot liquid meeting the insides of this man, warming him up from every corner of his body as it makes him forget about all his stresses for the least while, and the tiniest smile finds its way to play on Fryderyk's lips as he allows it to for a brief moment, until he swallows.

And _damn_ but all he did was drink coffee and Franz had never felt so attacked in his entire life before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aghajsjs thank you for reading aaa
> 
> Don't forget comment, and share skskks
> 
> btw pls dont hesitate to comment on any mistakes, once again this is my very first fanfic and I would gladly welcome any opportunity to learn writing in a better manner aaa
> 
> \- 菲咪咪 (Fei Mimi) 🌸💕


	3. II. A Much Needed Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chopin realizes that maybe laughing along with a stranger isn't so bad after all.

_"Wow."_ Franz lets out dazedly and a little "Hmm?" from Fryderyk goes, raising an eyebrow at him partnered with a sleek "What?" as if to say _'what are you looking at?'_ but the last few words omitted unapologetically - like Kovacevich playing on Beethoven's first piano sonata - strong and sincere.

They were currently two polar opposites. North against south, hot against cold, acid against basic. Two entities that you'd usually rather not mix, but the wicked humour that comes along with a mischievous grin that posted playfully on Franz' lips, it was there.

Franz gulps at his demeanor, _'not friendly...'_ he remembers to make a mental note, but somehow he wanted to break that. He wanted to break this 'Shohppan' apart and find every tiny piece of him to understand until he may one day pick them all up and stick them back together as the wonderful creation in front of him.

But Franz knew that this was not a mission he could do so in a snap of a finger. He had to take steps, do things slow, perhaps even develop a strategy.

There was no huge benefit, really, in creating whatever friendship Franz wanted to create with this 'Shohppan', but his curiosity alone was a mad man that loathed to take chivalrous strides towards a certain goal - and that is: to know the 'Mr. Medium Roast' even just a little bit more than just his coffee and moniker.

Franz wanted to engage, figure him out - _' why is he always frowning? why is he so quiet? why is he so... so sangry?'_ his mind had asked infinitely, yet he still couldn't find it in himself the answers as to why he was even curious in the first place, but this 'Shohppan' held a force too strong for even Franz to resist and so he decides to give in.

"How's the coffee?" he asks, taking his first stride towards an indiscernible plan, an unclear goal, he just wanted to know more about 'Shohppan', and that's all. Right? Prove he could break some barriers and make a friend, and that's all. Right? And so he persists.

"It's just coffee." Fryderyk remarks nonchalantly, an answer Franz didn't expect at all. Well, to be fair, he hadn't really expected Fryderyk to answer in the first place, so getting to set sail in a light conversation - that seemed like progress, yeah?

"You sure?" Franz asks, "It's not an order I usually receive, you know? That drink's more sweet than it is bitter. More sugar than it is coffee," he states, remembering how Fryderyk had wanted extra sugar with two cups of milk.

"If you only wanted some milk and sugar, you could've just said so." he continued and this earns him a very quiet "Shut up." from Fryderyk, but that didn't bother Franz, no, not at all.

What really perked Franz up was the little tint finding its way up to Fryderyk's cheeks and Fryderyk finding it in himself to sink into his seat even more, almost covering up his face with the laptop in front of him, and a stoic look of embarrassment slowly paints itself on his skin.

_Interesting_ \- Franz thinks, and so he decides to test the waters even more. Perhaps 'Shohppan' wasn't that much of a meanie after all, just defensive, probably, easily embarrassed - Franz suspects.

And perhaps he was right, because after a simple mention of "Why?" like a curious child seeking for the answers to life, this brings 'Shohppan' to finally look at him in the eye and say in a very low voice, "None of your business."

"But I asked politely." Franz retaliates. This earns him a sigh and a short pause until an "I can't really handle dark coffee." is made barely audible and voilà! A confession has been made!

That's one point for Franz in this pointless tug of war!

And, "Mmm" Franz hums as if to understand. "You made this drink?" Fryderyk asks so suddenly, salvaging on the dying conversation. "Yeah!" Franz replies, enthusiastic - _still didn't expect he'd speak -_ Franz thought.

"Do you like it? I made sure it'd taste great, knowing it was for you." he says resisting the urge to wink playfully at the end.

"It tastes like shit." is what Fryderyk remarks on the contrary, spite evident in his voice.

And Franz exaggerates a gasp, feigns an ache in his heart and, "Oh the pain, my effort has gone to waste! Woe is me!" he says almost obnoxiously, clutching unto his white polo as if to become a late Shakespearean thespian performing on stage, crumpling up the cloth that sat by his name tag - "Franz" it read.

This makes Fryderyk laugh a little, humour finally getting into him, and ah, but doesn't he just look so much better when he isn't frowning? Pale overtaken by a shade of flush. The way his eyes squint and his lips turn into an upward curve.

And Franz smiles at this reaction, his insides feeling all warm and accomplished, like a young protégé praised by his master upon finally succeeding at playing a scale in tune for the very first time.

"You spelled my name wrong too" Fryderyk manages in between oppressed remnants of quiet laughter. "It's supposed to be C-H-O-P-I-N," he chuckles, "not whatever... _this_ is." he looks pointedly at the name written in hurried penmanship, black ink on the paper cup he holds in his hand.

Fryderyk unexpectedly smiles at this. He was supposed to fret over writing up a new piece to publish, thinking about how he'd sell, but here he is, correcting the spelling of his surname and laughing at some man who had initially so disrespectfully intruded his personal space at the café.

But maybe I needed this. - Fryderyk would think. Yes. Maybe he needed to take a few seconds' worth of a break, and if it's over coffee at his favourite café, laughing with a terrible thespian wannabe, then that's just a bonus.

Franz smiles, remembers to spell his name correctly next time, and tries to say, "Well I-" but gets ultimately interrupted.

"Liszt, what do you think are you doing over there? Stop bothering the customers, we've got coffee to brew!" Berlioz is heard, yelling from behind him as a line of coffee drinkers start piling up in front of the counter again.

"Oh hey, Hector!" Fryderyk says, showing a rare smile that hadn't been seen in ages at Berlioz' direction. This shocks Berlioz, but remains composure as he replies with a "Hey, man." hands shown in a waving gesture and grins with his eyes, the kind that would say, 'I've missed that smile a lot.' while sparing Franz a glare.

This interaction between Berlioz and Fryderyk brings a ladle in Franz' mind, stirs it like porridge in a pot after a weird curdle of thoughts, but Franz let's this off for now, he needed to get back to work soon. Questions can wait. - he says to himself.

"So, Liszt, huh?" Fryderyk utters, recollecting from what Berlioz had just called him as Franz gets up from his seat hurriedly. Franz puts a hand on his hip, points at his nametag, bright smile plastered across his face, and he follows with a "Yeah, Franz Li-" "Liszt! Hurry up!" Berlioz yells again, and Franz lets a funny smile.

A tiny disappointed sigh escapes Franz as he goes, "Excuse me, I got to get back to work. Those coffees aren't going to brew themselves, are they?" before waving off. Fryderyk just shakes his head in return, averts his gaze back at his laptop and of course saves just one last glance at the name on his cup.

'Shohppan' with an overlooked smiley face at the end - is what was written in its entirety - and this keeps the little grin on Fryderyk's lips playing as he lifts the cup up to take another sip. The coffee wasn't actually too bad, but you could tell it wasn't up to its usual taste, still it was okay.

☕ ☕ ☕

"You're new here aren't you?" Fryderyk asks. He stands at the front of the counter again, this time it's around 5pm. The batch of customers have changed - some have gone and a few have stayed, and Fryderyk was one of those that stayed.

Fryderyk realizes that it's actually been a while since he'd taken notice of the people and employees at this café, and most certainly a longer while since he's spoken to anyone other than himself comfortably like this, like all the world was okay, like je didn't have to worry about making his music sell.

There were some employees he couldn't recognize anymore, and a few that still seemed familiar, one of them obviously being Hector Berlioz.

"That's odd, you're starting the conversation this time." Franz replies.

"Is it illegal? I'm trying to order something again."

"Why? Did you miss me already?"

"Oh, dream on Liszt."

And at this Franz chuckles. "Come on, just call me Franz."

"Alright then, _Franz._ " Fryderyk says, rolling his eyes as he lets the new name slip down his tongue with ease. They both have at a short banter and a few laughs here and there until someone is heard complaining, "There's line here, boys!" and they both quiet down slowly, muffled giggles tickling at their throats.

"I'll have an apple pie." Fryderyk finally says. "Hector knows the tiny details, so you can just ask him." he smiles. "I'm not in any hurry anyway."

"First name basis, huh? You and Hector close? You seem to have mentioned him a lot today." (just mentioned him now, actually, but he did say hi a while ago, so whatever) Franz asks, a question scratching like a tick at his head since the afternoon when they met.

"Hmm," Fryderyk lets a thoughtful hum. "Maybe? Been a while actually." he says trying at a sneaky glance towards Berlioz' way who was now prepping up a few drinks at the other side of the counter. "Not sure." he concludes.

Franz leaves it a that, remembering that there's a line. He smiles and approves, saying a little, "Sure I'll let you know when your pie's ready." and waves Fryderyk off. He continues to take orders from the next few customers and Fryderyk goes right back to his spot.

Alright, now let's work for real - Fryderyk says to himself, opening up a musical software on his laptop and starts putting in notes that would soon equate to a theme, melodic scenes making its way through Chopin's head and straight into his keyboard, fingers fixing notes right where they should be placed, and soon enough, an etude would be born.

☕ ☕ ☕

A couple of minutes or so pass by, warm apple pie, now half-eaten and almost cold on the ceramic plate by Fryderyk's side. He focuses on his laptop, writing his music as if it were his lifeline - well, in a way, it _is,_ but that's just what he does; it was the path he chose for himself.

He hums tunes and writes what he might call music, hoping one day he can finally get his pieces published like they used to, hold concerts like he used to, be recognized like he used to, and smile like he used to.

Soft shuffles of feet are heard faintly, mostly drowned by the piano concerto playing in the background, tapped along with the white noise of chatter in the café, and soon enough those shuffling stop. A voice is heard clear and careful.

"Is this seat taken by anyone _not_ named Franz Liszt?"

Fryderyk looks up. It was Hector.

"Not if it's you." he replies, a small smile playing on his lips, graced with apologetic eyes.

"Glad to know."

Hector takes hold of the seat, dragging it just a little bit to make way for him between the chair and the table before finally taking a plop. "Well, I'm on break right now so..." Hector starts, "How's it been?" he greets.

And Fryderyk smiles a petite warm smile. _Been missing, actually_ \- Fryderyk says, but only in his head. "Hm, everything's going fine, I guess." he lets out instead.

"Been a while, huh?"

"Yeah... been a while..."

"So," Hector pauses, "Franz Liszt? Really?"

And at this Fryderyk halts typing away at his laptop, looks at Hector straight in the eye, brows furrowed, and a certain look starts to form. Like if the void of the deepest depths of the Mariana's trench could become a face, it'd be Fryderyk's right now - unknown and unreadable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heiii thank you for checking out my fic hahaha anyway, don't forget to comment, and share uwu (not forcing u tho lol) but yeah sksks
> 
> tbh this chap is sort of just to wrap up/fast forward the day a bit hahaha
> 
> Hope u guys have a great day!
> 
> \- 菲咪咪 (Fei Mimi) 🌸💕


	4. III. Old Friends Might Know You Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hector Berlioz realizes that there is something going on between Liszt and Chopin - something that is more than just a the mere hi's and hello's of strangers that have just met.

Fryderyk raises a brow, "What's with Franz?" he asks. Thoughts and ears perked. _Why the sudden question? -_ were the words said in the silence of his mind. Fryderyk had only met the boy but a query like he had done something grave was raised, and this made him a bit confused.

"Well, nothing really. How's your music coming along?" evaded 'smoothly' was what Hector thought he did, but,

"Wait, no. You can't just ask me something then ignore it," Fryderyk replies and, "What's with Franz?" he asks again.

This makes Hector sigh at Fryderyk's seemingly clueless state. Perhaps the answer wasn't obvious, or perhaps Hector was just seeing too much into a small while of interaction between the new co-worker (Franz) and his old friend (Fryderyk), who knows?

But Hector had known Fryderyk for ages - since they were young teenagers at the conservatoire library, meeting for the first time: Fryderyk studying composition as Hector would skip his anatomy classes to read all about music as well - two young men at the peak of their youth, deciding what ultimately might lead them to where and what they are now.

Fryderyk - is now a pianist-composer struggling to publish a single piece once again - and Hector, who missed his chance at the medical field as his father had originally desired - is now on break from working at a coffee shop, sitting across an old pal.

Two friends who just might know each other a bit too well, and Hector, well he wasn't going to tell Fryderyk what he saw right then and there, no siree - the way Fryderyk's eyes sparkled in the least bit similar to how it would've used to as he'd finish a home recital, resounding applause making its way from the small audience of a family, and the tiny smile he'd form before taking his bow.

Or the way he'd let his emotions show a bit too quickly, laughing along and actually engaging in conversation with the new employee - Hector hadn't seen Fryderyk smile like that in years! And to think that this shy dainty boy who would frown at anything, who was constantly encased in his dark intrusive thoughts of helplessness, always loathing on his own music, his looks, his very being, his everything - would have laughed at a joke so easily like it was just made just to be laughed at by Fryderyk.

A joke so carelessly brought about by a stranger named "Franz Liszt".

Hector had speculated a little fondness in somebody's heart somewhere, but it's not like he could blame Fryderyk, really. Franz was a lovable guy! Friendly and charming was what he was, but even _he'd_ never thought Franz would step up to Fryderyk's intimidating appeal so easily like that.

Despite the seemingly overly contrastive charismas of the two, they somehow made their way to a level of comfortable speech, Fryderyk even calling Franz by his first name, little flirtatious quotes from Franz at the counter earlier, graced with some laughter here and there and all that, like they were meant to from the second they had met.

There was undoubtedly a pull of some sort between the two, like magnetic poles of north against south, or the way the tides would change as the moon's phase did - they were affecting each other and if that doesn't scream the idea that there's gotta be something between those two, then Hector doesn't know what will.

They were like stars - constellations meant to line up and form pictures and scenes and reminiscences of stories. Like fishes that are meant to live underwater and birds that are meant to soar the skies. They were fact - two beings that could do things only to each other without either of the two questioning anything, bringing back smiles that had hidden away for years and feelings of excitement that had slept for too long.

There was definitely a 'spark' perhaps, somewhere, as small as it may be now, but Hector was as sure as the sun would rise the next day that there was indeed at the very least, _something_.

Hector wasn't going to say anything about that, no, not yet, after all it had only been a day. Perhaps a little change of heart had just occurred between each individual, Fryderyk with his tiny brilliant smiles and Franz with his unannounced confidence, and perhaps it had just coincidentally happened to fall on the same day. Perhaps it was all just chance, not really something meant to last, but we'll see - Hector had thought.

He was all up on the idea of Franz and Fryderyk engaging in a relationship of being _great friends_ and whatnot. After all, it's not like any harm would come were they to not get along tomorrow, right? They just met!

So Hector lets all these thought remain in the quiet abode of his head, words changing when he speaks to his friend,

"You haven't said hi to me in a while." he says. A dumb excuse, maybe, but an excuse nonetheless. It was all he needed at that moment anyway, so it'll have to do. He'll just have to hope that Fryderyk buys it, which he does.

"That's it?" Fryderyk asks, "attention whore, just tell me the real reason." he says closing his laptop shut. Fryderyk hadn't spoken this casually to anyone in ages. The words rolling off his tongue so naturally like it was all muscle memory shocked both. Fryderyk slapped a hand at his mouth in a split second, covering it up, and Hector sported a sick grin on his face.

It sure felt a bit nice for Fryderyk to feel this care-free in a while, even if it's only through words, but he remembers that there was no need for any formalities between the two old friends in the first place, so he ultimately brings his hand down, away from his mouth.

"That's right." Fryderyk says, just the teensiest ounce of courage forming in his chest, a little tint finding its way again on the apples of his pale cheeks, "I _said_ that." he declares, chin raised playfully and arms crossed at his chest.

He was so awkward with these types of playful conversations - heck, he had always been - and seeing all this, slightly flustered Fryderyk at the heart, acting all tough like how they would used to as teenagers, it was a very nostalgic yet refreshing scene for these two old friends.

 _Been missing -_ as Fryderyk had thought at the beginning of their conversation, this was no lie at all, not for the friendship these two had endured.

They chat for a while, reminiscing at old memories, catching up on the years of no interaction other than the cold exchange of a "Here's you order" and a little "Thanks man" for the coffee they trade, and Franz arrives at the table, catching them laughing along at some old joke.

"I knew you two were close!" He says almost running up to them both, apron off his chest and left at the staff room as he stands closely at their table. That height, that face, that voice, and that smile. _Damn that smile,_ but Franz in a white polo and slacks was an image Fryderyk never knew he _needed_. No scratch that- _wanted._

Franz grabs a chair, pulling it back and takes a seat at the spot beside Fryderyk like it was his rightful place and no one says a word. Fryderyk panics for a second there, jumps in his seat as Franz plops himself beside Fryderyk, arm resting at the back of his seat and Hector laugh at this.

"What are you doing here?" Fryderyk asks with his signature frown, trying his best not to smile too much and embarrass himself in front of Franz, but then again, since when did Franz' opinion become such an important concern for Fryderyk?

"Yeah, what are you doing here?" Hector adds. "Aren't you supposed to be working right now?"

"My man, you're not the only one who gets a break around here. And wow, I still can't believe you two are friends!"

"Is it so mandatory for you to know about my relationships with potential customers?" Hector replies all the while, Fryderyk stays quiet, trying his best to ignore the little bickers of the two as he goes back into composing his piece, their conversation slowly becoming white noise to him.

"Well, not really, but _he's_ not a potential customer here," Franz says, head tilted at Fryderyk to point, "he's a regular!" he finishes as his eyes land on Fryderyk's laptop, mouth forgetting to close as he looks.

He sees notes placed on their spots like it was supposed to be there from the very beginning, dancing around on a staff like it was predetermined, predestined, meant to be, melodies coming to life in a very faint hum from Fryderyk as he gets so engrossed in composing, he almost forgets there were people with him in reality.

And Franz sings along a harmony to the tunes Fryderyk was sight reading, Hector looking on fondly at the two, soft musical melodies filling the little air between Franz and Fryderyk.

The silence of the conversation, replaced by the soft voice of a tall seatmate wearing a smile that you could hear, makes Fryderyk realize he was too entranced in his work. He wakes from his musical daze, jolts up and turns his head to see where the harmonies were coming from and oh but his estimated distance between himself and the source of the sweet voice were just a tad bit off.

His face was right in front of Franz', eyes wide staring right into the other pair, and Franz sporting a gentle smile as he looks at Fryderyk like he was someone actually worth looking at. Fryderyk does nothing but helplessly grow red in this close proximity of the two. Just centimeters away and their noses would've touched! Unacceptable! - Fryderyk would have usually thought, but no. Not this time.

He gets trapped there, as if time had suddenly stopped, or perhaps slowed down at the very least, and he could feel Franz' breath on his lips as he loses all knowledge to move. His insides were turning and his was head screaming like it was the end of the world. Suddenly he felt so hot, panicking internally as a late reaction at this petty excuse of distance, Fryderyk had started to tear up.

This brings Franz in attention towards Fryderyk as he gathers his hands, holds Fryderyk by the shoulders carefully, asking if he was alright, and Franz' smile was wiped in an instant, replaced by a look of worry and oh but the haunting disappointment of seeing that beautiful smile go was resting easy on Fryderyk's heart.

Franz looks at Hector for help and Hector tells him to calm down and not make a scene as tries to call on to Fryderyk softly hoping it'd bring him back to the reality he left in panic. Fryderyk snaps out of his little trance, looks at Hector slowly and sees through his blurry vision: the worried gaze his friend wore, knowing all too well that Hector probably understood what had just happened.

Fryderyk was never very good at interacting with individuals at such close proximity. He always enjoyed his own little personal space, and that sudden lack of distance between their faces, it had just suddenly torn Fryderyk's mind apart.

He was giddy, shocked, joyfully embarrassed, mad, but most of all, at that split moment, when their eyes had met, he had begun to silently panic, the beads of tears threatening to roll from his bunny eyes. Fryderyk's heart was drumming hard against his chest like he had just finished a marathon, sweat trickling slowly from his temples and pale skin totally replaced by a bright shade flush.

Franz, worried, asks slowly if Fryderyk was fine, "I mean, you're obviously not, but y'know. Are you alright?"

And Fryderyk doesn't reply, choosing to take his time to look down at his hands clenched at his lap and he tries to breathe slowly, inhales and exhales. Hector slowly reaches a hand out to gently pat on Fryderyk's back as he says in a soft voice, "Don't worry, he's alright." he says, replying to Franz in Fryderyk's stead, "Just not used to being too close to people all the time."

"Ever heard of personal space?" Hector says to Franz, a brow slightly raised as Fryderyk returns Hector's hand slowly. "I'm okay." Fryderyk finally manages to say. "I'm sorry if I scared you a bit. I guess, I just panicked a little. Sorry." he says in a very soft voice as if ashamed to reveal his panic, but Franz catches on.

"Hey, hey come on, don't apologize! If anything, _I_ should be the one apologizing! Come on, can I make it up somehow? I swear I won't do anything stupid! I'll respect your space if you want!" Franz says, backing just an inch away and raising his arms in the air as if caught by a cop.

"Nah, it's oka-" "How about you walk him home tonight?" Hector answers instead, a mischievous glint in his eyes obvious to Fryderyk and Fryderyk alone, making him shake his head thinking, "ah what's Hector up to this time?" but it's not like he rejects the suggestion anyway.

He looks at Franz a bit speechless as he tries to say something but gets beat to it first once again. "Sure! No problem! I'll take you home! What time do you usually leave-"

"Great!" Hector cuts off. "Frycek usually leaves just as we close here, so you shouldn't worry too much about missing work hours." he says fast.

"Oh really? That's great!" Franz replies gladly, pondering on the nickname 'Frycek'. The two make an agreement for Fryderyk as he sits there contemplating whether having Hector as a friend was a good idea or not, but oh boy he sure hopes this isn't going to be another one of Hector's few antics he used to pull back at the con.

The necessary question then comes out of Franz' lips unbidden, "So, where do you live?" he asks and oh but the correct answer and Franz' reaction just might not be something either Franz nor Fryderyk would have expected, but Hector laughs anyway, knowing well where Fryderyk was housed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, Berlioz = captain of Liszt-Chopin ship skskksks ahhaha
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and don't forget to vote, comment and share!
> 
> Have a nice day!!
> 
> \- 菲咪咪 (Fei Mimi) 🌸💕


	5. IV. Trip Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fryderyk battles with the emotions in his head, yearning for other's touch, as Franz takes him home.

Under the blessed moonlight and the scattered splash of pretty stars across the dark solar sky, someone's heart is at his throat, and his head caught in a pandemonium of thoughts circling around the endless possibilities that might occur at the fore of a subject named Franz Liszt. Fryderyk is relentless in the confines of his mind.

He'd constantly been thinking about what to say in this cumbersome excuse of comfortable silence, about how he could've just flat out denied the invitation for a free companion to take him home from the café - especially if that companion was a six foot tall man (who may or may not have also been unfortunately very hot) born under the given name of "Franz" - and yet here he was.

Leaving the just-closed café that Hector and Franz had worked in, Fryderyk is now trotting carefully along the sidewalk in the dark cold atmosphere of the nine o'clock air with Franz quietly making the effort of shortening the gap between his large steps so as to match the slow speed that the shorter friend, Fryderyk, was sporting - of course with the extra effort of making sure that the latter wouldn't notice.

In this dark of night, there is nothing but silence. Fryderyk hadn't even the heart to bat Franz the slightest glance as he would only keep his head down, eyes fixated on the cold cement that was underneath his shoes as Franz walked quietly beside him, a gentle smile splayed across his lips - the kind of smile Fryderyk would have loved to see, too bad Fryderyk was too busy looking down and had missed it in its entirety.

The lack of conversation, occasionally graced by the faint sounds of cars passing by in the night, was rather nice and calming. This was the exact type of environment Fryderyk would have loved to relinquish in - or so Franz had thought, but little did he know that at this current moment, Franz was in every shade far from right.

Fryderyk's head was in bedlam. He thought everything was just so awkward and wrong. He had never been this anxious before, not ever since his very first piano recital.

From the first step he took outside the café to the fact that they were currently walking just a bit too close, warmth radiating from the other, fingers nearly just a centimeter apart, with every step allowing them to feel each other's skin in the slightest bit, and every accidental touch of their pinkies sending up an anarchic surge of electricity through Fryderyk's bones, and oh, but the poor man.

Perhaps he was only overreacting. The taller individual didn't seem to be affected by anything in the least bit, but Fryderyk would have to do his finest to hide that annoying flush running rampant on his cheeks with his wavy chin length hair and damn but he had to try- no- Fryderyk had to _behest_ himself to not say anything nor even perhaps cry from the sudden unexplained butterflies he'd feel in his stomach on a whim as he remembers the man walking beside him.

It was an annoying notion, really - the fact that all so suddenly Fryderyk would feel jittery and helpless at the presence of a man he had just met earlier that day, but what could he do? It was as if he was under a spell so sinister, drawing his desires to yearn for their skin to finally meet, fingers intertwined with each other's.

Fryderyk would constantly scold himself in his head as every slow agonizing step would take him further away from the café, and closer to the flat he had lived in as it would pang in his heart: the truth - that when they arrive they would soon have to part for the night.

Really, they had just met. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours yet! But oh, Beethoven guide my soul, because damn Fryderyk had never felt so glad about being with someone else like this before. No, not in a long time. Perhaps he was just in dire need of a _friend_ , and so in the midst of all the pining chaos Fryderyk had encased in his head, he walked a step or two with his eyes closed shut, until finally a voice would break the silence.

"So," Franz starts, eyes sparkling and unparalleled by the stars glittering in the sky, "who would've thought we lived in the same area, huh?"

And there it was. The disturbing truth that Hector Berlioz had known the entire time. _Oh, that mischievous demon._ "Not even the same area, but the _same building!_ " Franz had revealed, marvel in his voice.

Fryderyk sighs, opens his eyes slowly as he lets go of the breath he had unknowingly been holding this entire time and, "Yeah, who would've thought." he says quietly.

Franz takes notice of the low sigh making little clouds of moist appear so briefly in the air along with that small crestfallen look that had decorated Fryderyk's eyes. "What's wrong? Is everything alright?" he asks, and oh no, but absolutely nothing is alright, not for Fryderyk, at least.

He was so conflicted with the feelings he held in his heart. It was like the sun against the moon, clouds across the sky - two things you wouldn't want together, and yet here it was, coexisting so perfectly in harmony, taking home in Fryderyk's poor little heart - his emotions.

He wanted to get home as soon as possible and be in the comfort of his piano, but he also did not want to lose this warm company of a new friend he had made, though basked in the awkward silence between the two. Still Fryderyk really enjoyed the knowledge of having someone by his side, even if it was only for a while.

Fryderyk had been all alone and so cooped up in his music for years, he had almost forgotten how nice it actually felt like to have someone to walk with in the night for a while, but alas, the trip decorated mostly only by their silence had come to an end.

They had reached the foot of a building no less then four stories high and they walk in through a wooden door, big enough to fit just one of them at a time. They reach the elevator and Franz offers for Fryderyk to press the button for his floor first and there, he presses the number two and almost immediately, the action is followed by a loud gasp.

This startles Fryderyk for a bit as he whips his head towards Franz' direction, worried if the other man was okay, but instead a huge smile was running pervasively on his face. "I live on that floor too!" he says, surprising Fryderyk.

"Really? Well, who would've thought?"

"Right?"

And a ding rings throughout the tiny elevator. The two stepping out, turning at a corner, and after a mere few steps, Fryderyk halts, making Franz almost bump into his back.

"Okay, okay, hold on. I really don't think this is funny anymore, nor is it cute." Fryderyk says, facing at Franz with a serious look worn on his face and a simple frown forming on his lips.

"What is?" Franz asks all innocently.

"Oh please. We both know you don't actually live here!"

"Yeah I do?"

"Haha, no, you don't. There's no way we live in the same area, in the same building, in the same floor, and now you're still following me to my front door? Man, just cut it out. It's getting kinda creepy."

"Wha- _creepy?_ But I really do live here! And no, I'm not following you to your front door. I'm simply walking to mine, which is actually..." Franz says, pausing for a good second as he looks through the hallway, scanning all the different doors, different numbers, different labels, until finally, how picks out one of them to point at, "this one!" he says, which was the one right behind Fryderyk.

"Come on, really? You can't fool me like that. I know who my neighbors are and I know for a fact that I don't live on a floor with a neighbour named 'Franz Liszt'. Anyway, 045, this next one's mine, so if you'll excuse me-"

"No way! We live right next door?" Franz says all disbelief and excitement gleaming in his eyes.

"Wha- No! I just told you, we're not nei-"

"So what's the name of the guy who lives here then, hm?" Franz challenges, pointing at the brown wooden door with the number "046" at its front.

"I- well..." Fryderyk says, drawing up at a losing end. Who was he kidding? He barely even remembered the landlord's name, how much more his neighbor's?

"Ha! See? You don't even really know who your neighbors are!"

"And you do?"

"Well I'm usually busy so..." Franz says, excuses becoming futile as his voice slowly fades in discontinuity.

"Oh, come on! If you don't believe me, I can just show you." taking up the key he had in his pocket with a tiny coffee cup keychain attached to it and _"heh, cute"_ \- Fryderyk remarks in the privacy of his mind, Franz then inserts the key through the doorknob, successfully opens the door, and motions for Fryderyk to come in like the gentleman that he is.

"Wanna come inside?"

And oh my Vivaldi but did Franz really just invite _me_ to his flat? I mean, we're neighbors after all (even though I never actually knew), but like, so what? - Fryderyk reckons in his head for a very brief moment, but ultimately decides to reject the offer, apologizes, and hurriedly waves him off.

Franz lets out a little, "Alright then." and they exchange a few good nights right then and there until both finally shut their doors closed.

As Fryderyk enters his flat, he beelines straight for the couch and almost collapses on it.

"Man, what a day!" he groans loudly to nobody in particular. It had only been fifteen minutes past nine but Fryderyk was exhausted. Who knew a jumbled notion of feelings in his stomach could tire a full-grown man in just a matter of a day?

Fryderyk tries to recount the events that had just occurred from the morning up 'til recently, short term memory flashing across his mind like scenes from an old movie, and he remembers that certain feeling he had resented to feel right from the start. Unintentionally thinking of Franz, knowing all too well that the person in question was indeed a part of his day too, and hell with him, but he _hated_ the guy. _Despised_ the man. Probably even _loathed!_

Because for someone with a pretty face and tall stature, it was annoying to think that he still couldn't understand what it meant to respect someone else's personal space - Fryderyk thought about Franz, but really it was just an excuse.

There was no way Fryderyk could actually hate the guy. He was just upset of how easily a stranger like Franz could make him feel all tingly and annoyed, yet ecstatic and wanting for more with just his presence alone. Like a teenager denying their first little crush on someone, Fryderyk felt like he was about to go mad!

He had never felt so vulnerable before, but something about Franz carried in him a sort of charisma that Fryderyk had especially loved to be ceded in. He was ashamed to even admit to himself that maybe, _just maybe_ , he had actually enjoyed the company of the taller individual very much, and oh but well, it's not like anyone's got to know, right?

So Fryderyk decides to shut up, lies on his sofa like a lifeless worm instead, and even forgets to change out of his coat as he lets loose the belts that were keeping his eyelids from falling, soon then drifting off into his own little dreamland where he could finally be at peace.

And Franz - well, Franz too was finally in the comfort of his own home, next door. Extinguishing what little energy he had left by taking a short shower and changing into comfortable warm clothes, ready for bed. Franz had planned on going to sleep soon, but then he accidentally catches a tiny glimpse of the old piano sitting in the midst of his living area.

He remembers the bittersweet memories he used to have by that instrument. The days when his father would teach him about the little basics of music theory, how to read those tiny black dots of ink sloppily written on a grand staff, how to strictly stay on time with an old tic-y metronome, his father had taught him well on the piano.

Franz smiled bitterly at that. It had been years since he last played. Ever since his father's passing, he hadn't been able to cook up anything for music in years. A well-displayed prodigy was what Franz Liszt used to be - _a star._ But now, he had become a name nearly forgotten by those who claimed to have loved him in the past. Franz had quit the piano not too long after his father's death.

Still though, he tended to the large instrument with care, making sure it was well dusted off and kept in tune all the time for it was after all, the only thing he had left of his late father.

The gift of music - it was the greatest present he could have ever received, and tonight, in the tired state of bittersweet nostalgia, Franz walks slowly towards the piano as if hypnotized. Opens the lid up, puts aside the velvet cloth that had covered the keys, and sees them, black and white in tandem.

Franz touches the keys for what might've been ages and there, in that quiet tease of skin against ivory, the cold keys making contact with his long tired fingers, Franz had never felt so familiar before. Just like breathing, Franz hadn't even the need in him to hesitate as he'd let his fingers float across the piano keys so effortlessly, playing like he had been meant to play on it for years.

Only the piano part of Beethoven's fourth piano concerto, second movement. It wasn't his own piece, but in the absence of an orchestra, there was nothing but the raw sound of Franz' original piano playing at the heart that had filled his room - his powerful storytelling, the sorrow riding along the notes.

It was the total opposite of how he would have usually played in the past - so grandiose and extra - but no, this time, there was nothing but the quiet melancholy that had accompanied his piano playing. It was a tune filled with dole, like the quiet fall of dead leaves to the ground, brown and dried. Tonight's piano would have brought tears to his eyes, if only it weren't for his strong will.

Not too long after, Franz had grown a small knowing smile on his lips. Oh how he had missed that feeling of ebony and ivory against his gentle touch. That feeling of longing notes arranged in a melody that would line up to his ears. The feeling of _music._ Franz never noticed how much he had actually missed it, until he hits the last note.

He looks back at his hand once again, the longing for more music even more evident in his eyes now, but he too was exhausted from work, and wear was drawing all over his aching body. So, Franz gets up instead, closes the piano lid slowly, and heads straight for his bed, wrapping himself loosely in his blankets as he too lets his eyes close, the reminiscences of Beethoven playing in his head as he falls asleep.

And in the silence of the night, a light piano melody plays, probably from the room, as it peacefully lulls Franz into deep sleep. The third movement of the piano concerto he just did was now painting the background - _yellow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // i just edited a few (kinda a lot...) of how I wrote it, but the story remains the same so dw. u can read it again if u'd like, but that's all up to u :)) //
> 
> sksksk frycek just can't accept he likes someone damn sskssk btw, you guys should give Uchida's recording of Beethoven pc 4 a listen, it's rlly good :"))  
> Anyway, thanks for reading and don't forget to vote, comment and share!  
> Have a nice day!!  
> -菲咪咪 (Fei Mimi) 🌸💕


	6. V. Glass Capsule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Franz takes Fryderyk to have some little fun (all in the name of music, of course - or so he'd hoped).

It had already been a few weeks now, the two next-door neighbors opening their eyes to meet the morning sunshine at their wake each day (sometimes some mild drizzle if the clouds would pay them some mercy), and things have really started to become what's more like daily routine from there.

Franz would greet the sun first, reflect the warmth of it on his face, and freshen up. Maybe have a bite or two at some bread, and his favorite step in the routine, of course, would be to take joy in listening to the faint piano melodies muffled by the walls that had separated his unit from 045's just before leaving for work.

Notes against notes, beautiful harmonious intertwines of tunes desperately trying tell a story, an intoxicating beat of the piano strings, mesmerized in the battle of fingers against keys - and that's exactly how Franz would love to start his day. In fact, that's how Franz had _always_ started his day ever since a new neighbour moved in a few years back - listening to the mysterious "piano man" next door that he would always catch before leaving - and finally knowing who the piano man is, the music had never meant so differently before, graced with an entirely new feeling for Franz that he had loved to be yielded in.

Like a magnetic pull of some sort, or perhaps a dream he would never want to wake up from - Franz would find it difficult to leave his flat each time as the graceful steps of keys, constricted sounds by the walls he'd wish he could break, would float around his unit, hypnotizing Franz with music. But, his will needed to be strong. Franz would leave before he'd get late for work, as disappointing as that may be for him, but he does it anyway, for the sake of not getting fired.

And then there's Fryderyk:

Fryderyk would usually wake up a bit later than Franz. He'd be somewhat sluggish in the morning and he hated going out early, so often times, Fryderyk would just laze around in the day. Perhaps play a bit of piano, completely oblivious of his special audience from room 046, and ultimately only start composing at around 10 am when Franz would have already left for the café casually an hour before then.

By the late afternoon, Fryderyk would head to the café as well and ask for his usual: a cup of medium roast with two cups of milk and extra sugar - which by now all the employees would have already memorized - and then go straight into his spot at the corner of the café, chair basked in appropriate sunlight and the view of some passersby fairly granted to the man.

Now, all these recounted are actually just habits and tasks that the two would have already been doing for years, but here's where things have started to get a bit tipsy recently:

Fryderyk would work on his compositions in the café until closing time, bidding his goodbyes to Hector, and then eventually walk home _with Franz_ in the near dark of nine o'clock, maybe even laugh at a few jokes along the way, and I beg you not, but believe me when I say, some employees might have even speculated that perhaps Franz and Fryderyk were just a _little bit_ of something more than friends, though we all know in truth that they are absolutely _not_ anything more than so. Or at least _not yet-_

Because today was a special day; today was different. It was Franz' day-off and he had invited himself over to Fryderyk's place once again (just like how he had a few times before in the past weeks), playing along on Fryderyk's piano for avocation, sweet effortless duets (where behind one of those notes, either of them might have probably poured in just a tad bit more love for the other man than most friendships would have most likely), occasionally ornamented with the unpretentious chitchats about all sorts of experiences in life, and perhaps even sparing a few moments to share some reminiscences of when Franz was still the renowned child prodigy he used to be.

It wasn't too music-centered, actually - their conversation, that is - but they did somehow touch the topic of composition today. The way each notes would fit from tone to tone and Fryderyk had apparently been a child prodigy too! A young pianist and composer whose fame had grown wide in his home country of Poland. Name known all throughout the place, and his music proclaimed.

But recently, Fryderyk's been going down in a slump. His works have been turned over to a deaf ear by his publishers and teachers, saying that despite the exotic intricacies of his technique, they were at length just too "bland" to be even called music, which Fryderyk had absolutely no difficulty in believing! He would constantly indulge himself in abhorrence, and loath his own works - not a healthy habit to have.

But today, Fryderyk gets a shot at salvation; salvation that was utterly brought about so easily by a man named Franz Liszt, once again.

"I don't think your music is _that_ bad," he says. "I think it just needs a bit more... _life?_ "

"Exactly! Day by day I keep trying to make things better, but day by day my works only become even more dry and barren! It's a damn curse, I tell you!"

"Wait- do you _seriously_ stay in to work on your pieces _all the time?"_

"You bet I do! And that's what makes things even more frustrating!" Fryderyk says, voice nearly breaking as he continues, "I work and work and work each day, trying to perfect my technique, my music, _but still_ , I'm at a plateau! Stagnating! I'm not getting better at all! I'm-"

"Well of course you're not getting better!" Franz interrupts, brows furrowed at Fryderyk. "How can you get better if all you do is sit in here and hide all day?"

And, "Excuse me?" Fryderyk replies almost instantly, perhaps a little bit of offence was taken from that as Franz gets off the couch, walks towards the center of the room and spins to look at Fryderyk straight in the eyes, passion clearly burning from behind them like hellfire, as he tells him,

" _Music is meant to express!"_ arms raised to the heavens as if to embrace the entire concept itself, "Tell stories! Relate!" a step had been taken, and then followed by another, "Share! Illustrate!" Franz was now slowly closing in on the shorter man, "How do you expect to express the feelings that you yourself have never experienced, Fryderyk?" Franz suddenly asks in a soft and hushed cotton-like voice, face inches away from Fryderyk's own, sincerity almost tangible in the innocent sparkles of his pleading deep brown eyes, looking directly at Fryderyk's own as if his world was in there.

(and if you look a bit more closely, you just might see that there was, in the very least, the slightest tint of pink that had been painted on Franz' cheeks)

But in a heartbeat, he suddenly runs away in the opposite direction, whiplash almost becoming a thing of fact as he not-so-subtly hides his cheeks briefly with the sweeps of his chin-length silken hair, and heads towards Fryderyk's big window that was completely covered by a thick layer of long velvet curtains, drawing them completely opened.

"Let there be light!" Franz yells out playfully, holding up a fist in the air, laughing like the hysteria was really there. Sunshine entering through the glass, basking his entire being in warm brightness, and for a moment there, in Fryderyk's eyes, Franz actually seemed to glow, shoulders bouncing up and down with every giggle coming out of his upturned mouth and his hair swaying slowly as he'd come to meet sights with Fryderyk, a tiny placid smile across his face as if to call out his name.

And Fryderyk shakes his head at this, pushes aside the little replays of Franz' laugh in his mind and asks, "What do you think you're doing?" with his face showing a meek expression of confusion, though for the most part - utter fondness for the taller individual.

"You're sick, _Freddy!_ " Franz replies, hesitation straight out the window.

" _Freddy?"_

"Yeah! You're sick! _Very_ sick! And you need some help! You're all yellow and weak- you need to go get some sunlight and step out!"

"Wha- no, I don't! How dare you! _You're_ the one who needs some help."

"Deny all you want, but I've already made up my mind." Franz declares, coming back to Fryderyk's fore and reaching out for a hand to grab. He doesn't even know about the effects he has on Fryderyk, but the feeling of his big warm hand encasing in it Fryderyk's own cold ones will never fail to bring a horrific amount of giddiness in the latter's heart as Franz pulls Fryderyk up to stand. Butterflies going crazy in his stomach like a disturbed sanctuary and his face heating up in just a matter of seconds.

"We're going out today!" Franz proclaims, "You and I!" and oh boy, but Hector isn't on day-off to see nor save Fryderyk's ass this time - so he concedes, defeated like the sick boy he is, fallen ill from just the touch of a hand by this other man, and Fryderyk doesn't deny this, nor does he reject it, but deep down, he may actually be quite excited for what silliness Franz has packed up in his head for him this time.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️

"Where are we going?" Fryderyk queries, walking behind Franz as little drops of sweat start trickling down his temples. Liszt actually still hasn't let go of Chopin's hand, but at least Fryderyk can use the hot sun as a great excuse for his tomato-face. He's been holding onto it securely ever since they stepped out of their flat as if afraid of losing the guy and been dragging him around town like a little doggie on a leash the entire afternoon.

"Just hurry up! It's a surprise!" Franz replies, steps beginning to speed up as both the men now pick up their paces and start to jog, and soon enough they reach an entrance. A huge arch with some weird bright coloured decorations on it - a lollipop, some clouds, a rainbow, an image of children laughing.

It was a weird sight for Fryderyk, and that notion was more than evident in his face. "You've never been here, have you?" Franz asks, a smirk on his lips and _damn_ that cheeky bastard.

"Bold of you to assume I've never been to an amusement park before."

"Mm, but your face says it all." and man, but Fryderyk was really _that_ transparent, huh?

"Whatever." he says, feigning a cold look as he aims for a fair act at hiding his embarrassment and, "What are we doing here, anyway?" Fryderyk asks, now trying his best conceal his childlike curiosity and excitement that had been building up on the way as well.

"You're asking 'what'? Well, to have fun of course! Take a shot at life for once! Come on, you have to try this." Franz says dragging Fryderyk by the hand again, and smoothly Franz manages to get them two tickets for a ride.

They spend the rest of their day running around, setting their inner child free for a moment, and trying all sorts of things Fryderyk has probably never had before - candy apples, cotton candy, roller coasters (that surprisingly didn't scare Fryderyk as much as Franz was screaming for his life), and who would've thought that Fryderyk would actually do really well with those shooting games? Though, not quite as masterful as Franz was at it!

They were laughing and screaming like idiots who couldn't care less about a single the problem in the world, holding on to the numerous amounts of plushies Franz had won for both of them, Fryderyk nailing the rhythm games like they were nothing, and the feeling of having your guts at your heart, your face muscles tiring from smiling all the time, Fryderyk had never had this much fun in forever!

Until night was finally approaching steadfast.

They decided to slow down a little, ice cream cone in hand, plain vanilla for Franz and some sweet, sweet strawberry for Fryderyk. They head to the last ride they decided to throw their money on, the line shortening in no time, and in a matter of seconds, both Franz and Fryderyk were now sitting across the other, both encased safely in a glass capsule slowly being suspended in the air.

"What do you call this thing?" Fryderyk asks, pointing at the little glass capsule they were both trapped in.

"A date." Franz replies nonchalantly, doubt and hesitation failing to be a thing of existence in that tone of his, and Fryderyk's eyes widen, size becoming comparable to that of fresh apples, and he points at his seat again, "T-this is called a date?" he asks.

And Franz slowly closes his eyes for a brief moment, spine sinking into the back of his seat as he makes up a peaceful closed-lip smile. "Ah, you mean this." he says, pointing at nothing.

"This is called a Ferris' Wheel. It's great for checking out the view of the place, especially at around a time like this." and Franz takes a peek at the man in front of him - Fryderyk was gazing out the window, head almost glued on to the glass as he tries to take in the sights of the entire amusement park bathed in the mesmerizing hue of orange, wonder in his eyes like a blind child finally seeing for the first time.

A Ferris' Wheel - the sunset - a view of the town on red - this particular man across this particular other - nothing could beat a scene like this, no. Not for Franz, at least.

The sky was painted in soft ambers, gradients of crimson and honey slowly turning into shades of pink, then shades of purple, until ultimately it becomes a sky spattered with dots of white across the endless night.

It was a slow ride - the Ferris' Wheel - but Franz enjoyed every second of it, getting the chance to steal as much glances as he'd want, stare as much as he'd want at the man at his fore - the man so entranced by the fast-changing skies, the image of little people on the ground running around, lamp posts slowly lighting up one by one as the night would creep up from behind the mountains' side, and they now would reach the bottom of the wheel, the operator kindly asking them to step off, and oh, but the amount of quiet desire Franz had unknowingly grown strong in his heart was immensely unapologetic. To stay on top of that wheel with Fryderyk for just a little bit more time - Franz had wished for only that for now.

But, "Where to next?" Fryderyk asks, and that innocent smile on his face still hasn't failed to cease, not since they hopped on the first ride.

"Maybe have some dinner, yeah? I don't know about you, but I'm famished!"

"Oh cool! Me too!" Fryderyk says, as he turns back to the front and misses that fond look playing around so shamelessly on Franz' face, and _damn_ but what a guy, huh? - Franz thinks to himself.

It isn't usual for Franz to suddenly take notice of subtle little details about someone, like the way a particular man's nose would scrunch up when he laughs, or the way his head would tilt so slightly to the right and his brows would start to knit together when faced by a confusing realm of some sort, but something about Fryderyk - something about the was his eyes would speak so truthfully, like he had nothing to hide, the way he'd wear his heart on his sleeve so easily that it just makes Franz want to protect it with his entirety.

He couldn't quite pin it down yet, but there was something about Fryderyk that had made Franz think that perhaps there could be another reason for him to want to keep living.

An expression more important than himself.

Perhaps it was to see the way Fryderyk's eyes would squint as he'd laugh at Franz' terrible dad jokes, or perhaps it was the way Fryderyk would look back at Franz and his natural wavy locks would sway as an after effect, framing his delicate face, but whatever the reason was, Franz wanted to keep Fryderyk there, even if it was just for a while.

It was a weird notion, really. An entirely new world. A feeling he couldn't quite name. But if that feeling would start to paint his sights to see a world more colourful than he had ever seen before, then Franz wouldn't actually mind drowning in that sick warm feeling that would only bubble up whenever Fryderyk was around.

No way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sksksk enough about how Fryderyk feels, let's talk about how Franz feels 🙈🙈
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and don't forget to comment and share!  
> Have a nice day!!
> 
> -菲咪咪 (Fei Mimi) 🌸💕


	7. VI. Merry-Go-Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Franz takes a dive into figuring out why his heart would keep banging at his chest whenever he sees Fryderyk Chopin around.

Love isn't a chivalrous gentleman that comes politely knocking on the doors of your heart, no. Love is a sly thief that comes unannounced in the dead of the night, tending to go unnoticed. And this deadly criminal – love – is especially stealthy upon entering the home of a man named Franz Liszt.

Detrimental feelings that make you lose sight of yourself ever so slowly. Your vision turning into a blur, focusing only on one individual, a portrait in your heart - the cause of this love, the boss of this criminal. A means of expression and sentiment that makes you stop.

It makes you stop breathing, it makes you stop thinking, it makes your heart pound in ways you never knew it could, it makes you commit to all sorts of unbidden doings as you lose yourself along the way. As you lose yourself all in the name of love for another.

_Another..._

Whispers and shudders, the taste of divine bliss at the tip of a tongue, a tragic cake-filled fork taken into the entrance of his mouth, and thin lips stained with sweet thick chocolate.

That smile, that look in his eyes, Franz couldn't stop himself from staring at the ethereal being that was seated right in the fore of him. This man he had never really put much thought into 'til recently. And Freddy's actually got a real charming smile when he does - Franz thought.

"This tastes amazing! How'd you find out about this place?" a question is raised, breaking Franz out of his trance, and gosh, but there it is again – that smile.

"Haha, we just got lucky!" Franz replies, "I've never actually been here before. And hey, you seem to have gotten a little-" He says as he tries to point at his lips. Fryderyk's own were smudged with chocolate, like a little boy enjoying his sweet dessert so carelessly, a little mess had formed on his face, and upon realization, a flush had managed to make its way onto Fryderyk's cheeks.

The day was rather fun – a real stress reliever – Fryderyk would say!  
Just filled with hearty chuckles, running around and playing games. For just a day everything seemed to be so problem-free and man, but who knew Fryderyk had actually needed a day like this so badly?

After their little dinner together, the two decided to walk home, side by side in the comfortable silence of the night. Though no one was speaking, the quiet was rather refreshing, a little contrary to the screams and cheers from the upbeat amusement park.

The environment was different, changed with just the absence of sound, but this absence was a good one per se, because in the midst of this tacet, there was: the harmonious intertwine of two hearts beating on time in their own little symphony of quiet Philia love.

They arrive at their doors, 045 and 046, bid their goodbyes, little exchanges of a 'good night' and an 'I had fun today' before leaving the sight of the other, and relinquishing in the alone of their rooms, both separated only by a mere concrete wall.

And it is in the quiet solo of their homes during the late night that their hearts would allow their minds to sort out their feelings for the entire day.

In the very least, Franz was almost bedraggled in the brains as he would wonder, "Since when have I cared so much about the music of another?"

Remembering, the little outing was originally meant to inspire Fryderyk, give him something to write about, an experience to share through his music, but one thing had led to another and the next second Franz knew, they had gone on an entire amusement park date!

_Date..._

Yes, Franz had called it a _date._

" _Sweet baby Mozart! I had called it a date!_ "

And it had only started to sink into Franz' head - the words he had uttered so stupidly in the Ferris-wheel.

"Does this mean we went on a date? Was it even really a date? Could you call it a date? I mean, _I_ called it a date, but it's not like it really _was_ one, right? What did Freddy think? Oh, God."

And he wondered: why was Franz suddenly so irked by that little slip of his tongue? Why did he have to care so much about what the other man might have thought? Why did the idea of Fryderyk have to matter so much to him that he had somehow managed to wrap his head around the idea of anything that had only involved Fryderyk? He was all that circled Franz' head!

Seconds turning to minutes and minutes turning to hours, all Franz had done was think, reminisce, and think again, picturing out every way Fryderyk's eyes would disappear as he'd laugh, the way his face would flush after the roller-coaster, the way his voice would sound when he calls out Franz' name.

_Franz' name..._

He doesn't even know what it is, but something about the way Fryderyk would call him - he makes his name sound so perfect. Like all he does is call out and Franz is suddenly all torn apart in utter shame. Oh, to be called by this man like you were some sacred spirit, and there you have it, at the hem of Fryderyk's image, Franz had lost in this one-sided tug of war.

Franz had now gone in an endless spiral or thoughts, longing to be by Fryderyk's side again. Like a man needing oxygen, Fryderyk had become his air, his reason to smile like an idiot in the night, his impetus to wake up, his motivation to move on, to work, to play the piano again.

_The piano..._

It was Franz' primary source of happiness back then. Oh, the joy it would bring as he'd play his concertos and the ladies would be at their knees, his mother feeling triumphant, and his father... His father feeling proud.

The piano was his only. Everything in his life was somehow always connected to it. Until his father had passed and everything had changed – his mother falling ill and Franz having to work multiples to support the both of them. But now a new light in his life had appeared. Someone he should've known for years – a simple next-door neighbor, a simple regular customer, a simple pianist-composer, a simple friend just trying to make a living as much as he was; a man.

_Fryderyk Chopin._

And it was then when his world would change once more. Everything seemed bright, like there was still hope for something good. Franz had known very well that Fryderyk could not bring back the joys of his past, but something about Fryderyk, like a magnetic pulse or gravitational force, something about Fryderyk had told Franz that he could bring him something new.

Something that isn't quite him nor is it quite the other. Something that isn't one, nor is it the latter. Something entirely different and avant-garde. Something he couldn't quite name. A feeling of bliss, a feeling of sorrow, a feeling of longing and of never-ending gaiety. A combination of all the uncertainties and of all the sureness in the world. A feeling of love.

_Love..._

Was he in love with another man? Was this Franz Liszt held captive by the deathly guards of infatuatious feelings? This dark plague that consumes your heart whole with no qualms of apologies. Franz was kept at a dilemma. "There is no way I am in love with this man" he said, yet there he was still entertaining the thoughts of Fryderyk in his little mind theatres.

And so, with these feelings of yearn and these feelings of giddiness, if not love, then what was this feeling bubbling in the depths of Franz' stomach? – that was the question left to be answered. And meanwhile, as Franz was debating upon the emotions in his heart, Fryderyk on the other hand, was already sure he was in love with Franz - though kept a secret – he was very well aware that he had no chances of winning against this immense chord of love he had in himself.

Fryderyk was in the other room, sitting by his piano, and his head was buzzing with a melody only yet to be known. Fryderyk had never felt such fun in his entire life! For him, today was the absolute best, and nothing thus far could top it off.

He wanted to let everyone know how his day went, how his heart would be at the brink of explosion every time as he'd be at the mercy of Franz' not-so-subtle deathly glances of fond. The way Franz had called it a "date" in the Ferris-wheel, though it may have just been a mistake, still, Fryderyk would rather dream on than cede to the bitter truths of reality: that in this symphonic poetry of love, only Fryderyk had felt this romance - or so he thought.

Therefore, Fryderyk had rushed open the piano lid, his fingers positioned in the feeling of giddy uncertainty as he'd play out the melodies his heart had written and kept throughout the entire "date".

He plays an impromptu. Fingers pressing softly on the keys, slowly trying figure out what comes next in accordance with his sweet reverie, desolate of all hate. For once, all Fryderyk wanted to do was play. Play in means where he was held by no rues whatsoever. Remembering the crime he would commit (or so some might say) - a man loving another man. Fryderyk did not want to be kept by anything - not the shame, not the judgement, not the words, not anything.

He played of the improv experiences he had in his day. Events that were not planned in the least bit. Activities you'd never expect. It was like for a moment there, Fryderyk had lived in a world that could only exist in his head. A world that could only be read in fairytales. A world where he could lock sights with Franz Liszt for as long as he wanted.

He played music that was bound by no classical rules, bound by no precedence - something entirely his own. Something new. The exotic intricacies of his technique, combined by the raw feelings of his heart beating for another man. Chords against chords and notes against notes. His heart heavy on the piano.

Fryderyk Chopin played his piece and called it: his Fantasie-Impromptu.

Sincerity was in his works, and back in the other room – where the man he'd want to call his, was staying – would hear his heart, his melodies, his piece, his Fantasie-Impromptu, trying to break through the walls between them, calling out to him with a greeting he could not yet comprehend. A greeting of love, perhaps, but Franz was listening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!!
> 
> (sorry no Christmas special. I lost track of the dates and before I knew it, it was already the 25th aaa)
> 
> Today was mostly about Franz trying to figure out his feelings :")) and I hope he realizes it soon hahahaha
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and don't forget to comment and share!
> 
> Even if you don't celebrate Christmas, I hope you all have a nice day!!
> 
> -菲咪咪 (Fei Mimi) 🌸💕


	8. VII. The Unreachable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Franz and Chopin are in fear of what the other might think when one of them reveals their homosexuality.

What do you mean by "love"?

To love in a means where your world may be devoured, colours taken apart and replaced by that of grey; your thoughts of a beautiful painting - gone, swept, and fallen pale, all in comparison to the beautiful image that is this man. To love in the mercy of his eyes, his skin, his music.

To love as nothing but love itself - with no meanings holding you back, no gazes and opinions stopping you from anything; stopping you from loving. To love as if nothing had mattered. No looks, no truths, no lies, no anything. To love with no qualms of apologizing.

To love just as to love.

On one fine day, Franz takes it upon himself to confide about this idea. In the young of the night, café shift just finished, and the two friends basking sweetly in the tacet of each other's presence in Chopin's living room, Franz throws the question about like a coin to a fountain, hoping something good might come out, and he throws it a bit hard to the unsuspecting receiver.

"What do you mean by 'love'?" he asks out of the blue.

And Fryderyk, who is seated at the piano, just telling Franz about the news of his last week's Fantasie-Impromptu finally being put under review before actually getting published (just a little more to what might be Chopin's successful comeback to the music scene) - a piece he'd never tell was actually about his unexpected adventures and hopes with Franz - looks at him, tilts his head, and knits his brows together in confusion, _why the sudden query? -_ he would ask to himself.

Silence would first gather until Franz would follow up in real life with, yet another question - "How do you know you're in love?" he says loud and clear, voice laced with pure sincerity, looking straight into Fryderyk's brown eyes, and there it was, a certain face.

Fryderyk would have recognized that look from a mile away. The look of self-suppressed longing. The desire to be in somebody else's arms. The look of fear, thinking that perhaps he was in love with someone he feels he isn't allowed to be with.

A look so familiar, because Fryderyk had seen it on his own for far too many times. Whenever he'd be reminded of the cursed love he had conceived from within: for he as a man, to fall in love with yet another man - this was the only dilemma Fryderyk would hate to think about for himself. And though the look was soft and almost unnoticeable, Fryderyk could still tell, that look was undoubtedly there. Right there in Franz' troubled eyes and sad lips.

But thoughts of him aside, my, is Franz in love? And if so, who in the world could have succeeded in taking hold of Franz' heart, the same way Chopin would have wanted to take hold of it first? What a sorrow! But what chance could have Fryderyk had before then? If Franz had ever found out about Fryderyk's homosexuality, who knows how Franz might've reacted? To hurt him in ways Fryderyk would never even begin to imagine.

Franz had always been too good of a man, and Fryderyk had always been too afraid to say anything to profess his love. So now, when Franz comes to confide in him for words about this matter, when all Franz does is ask for nothing but humble guidance, who is Fryderyk to turn him down? If anything, he ought to let the man love the woman he can never live up to! If by Franz' side, Fryderyk can stay as a good friend, then he'd like to hold on to what he can have. After all, beggars can never be choosers, and at Franz' feet, Fryderyk is nothing but a beggar for his unreachable love.

So he answers most sincerely, "Love is a complicated concept, it is the most difficult yet simplest thing you can encounter." Fryderyk says. "Are you in love, my friend? Who is this lucky woman of tonight's voice?" he asks, in hopes to conceal the sounds of his breaking heart, every word equating to a tiny piece shattering upon collision with the cold hard ground, and Fryderyk would have to wear that bitter and painful smile - the kind he had almost gotten used to by now.

"I'm not quite sure..." Franz says, and Fryderyk raises a brow at this, noticing a weak smile playing on Franz' lips.

"that's why I'm asking you, Freddy." Franz continues, "But it seems you've dismissed the delirious idea of me falling for another man. You've asked about a woman instead! But that shouldn't be a surprise. It is only normal for anyone to think that way. My heart's desires have been quite unforeseen and disgraceful recently. Falling for you, in the very least." Franz says, words drenched in every drop of sincerity and itching pain he had left in his being, though the last parts were omitted. That part about dismissing an idea and the falling for another man thing. Franz only says the first sentence out loud, and the rest are kept at the bays of his throat.

"I'm not quite sure if this feeling should be called love, and if it is, I'm not quite sure I'm allowed to be in this kind of love either." Franz says carefully, treading on unsteady waters. "So, I'm asking you. What would you mean by 'love'? And how would you know you really _are_ in love?" he repeats for the final time, and Fryderyk looks at him like it would've been his last.

He takes in every feature Franz holds, every curve of his body, every bump on his skin, every bits of flaws and perfection, everything. He looks at Franz as if preparing himself for yet another terrorizing war between himself and the love he cannot have, and he fears he may not be able to come back alive from this one.

Fryderyk replies, a defeated chuckle, "You are a man who always exceeds my expectations, Franz. Loving should come easy to you." He says in painful delight.

"Again, love would be the most terrible thing, yet the most sublime feeling you will ever experience, Franz. It's quite a complicated matter. It's not a general idea you can just assume, but rather an individual experience, a perspective only you can claim and call your own." he says as he looks at Franz in his eyes, the lights of the room reflected dimly on them.

"Love is like a fairytale of sorts. You could give up everything and let the person whom you heart desires repaint your world in all sorts of pretty colours. But it could also be like a deep abyss that you fall endlessly into, and whether you get hurt or not as you find ground for landing is entirely out of your wits to decide." Fryderyk now fixes his gaze upon the piano, avoiding Franz' own.

"You can fall straight onto the cold hard floor, shatter upon impact and get terribly hurt. Or you can land on soft pillows or sweet-smelling flowerbeds that were set up by your lover. It all depends on how your love might be received. It is a gamble, Franz, and so I must tell you to be careful. Now, as for your second question..." Fryderyk slowly looks at his ceiling, neck stretched and exposed, head facing high as if to ask God for some sort of help as he closes his eyes.

"You'll know you're in love when the time comes." Fryderyk brings his head back down and smiles, the genuine kind, not the wide ear-to-ear shit-eating grin, but a soft and gentle close-lipped smile, eyes looking longingly at Franz like he was his one and only that was about to be taken away forever, and Fryderyk continues, "When you know the dangers of falling in love, the risk of throwing yourself in a world you can only barely comprehend, the menace of getting hurt; It is then.

"When you start to take part in activities you wouldn't usually find yourself doing, when you start caring about her more than yourself, when you want to be with her every second, hands intertwined and warm skin felt softly against the other," and at this point Fryderyk drops a sad gaze at his own hands that were resting on some piano keys, thinking about what it might've felt like if it were his hands intertwined with Franz' own instead.

"When you eye her and the world would seem stop. When she becomes the only highlight, and everything else will become dull in comparison to her image. When she puts angels to shame in your eyes. When she becomes your spring after the winter. That's when you'll know, Franz." Fryderyk says. "You're in love with her." Warm tears brimming from Fryderyk's eyes, threatening to fall.

To Fryderyk it felt more like he was explaining how it felt to love Franz rather than to love another. It hurt him to think this would all be how Franz might love the woman in question. The person that isn't Fryderyk. The person he would never be.

"Wow, I never pegged you to be the loquacious type." Franz says, astonished.

"Ah, excuse me for that. It's probably just the drowse speaking. It is getting late, after all."

"Is it? Because it sounds to me like you've been more than just in love before! Why don't we talk about that, huh?" Franz tries,suddenly interested in what romances Fryderyk might have experienced in the past, like bait to the waters, "No, thank you." but Fryderyk was no fish.

"Aww, why not? We're already at it anyway."

"Haha, we're not _at_ it, Franz. Only you are." Fryderyk pauses for a while, clears his throat, blinks back the unnoticed tears, and continues, "You still haven't told me about the girl!" Fryderyk exclaims, trying his best to seem all excited and whatnot, but Franz was an unpredictable type. He doesn't spare Fryderyk the emotional roller-coaster and shock when he hears Franz say his next few words.

"Heh, but it's not a girl, Freddy." and to think that those were actually said out loud in an audible speech.

"What's not a girl?" Fryderyk asks, and disbelief could have never been more evident in his tone, in his looks, in his being.

"My sweet wild rose. The person I claim to love. He's not a girl, Freddy." and those words would ring into Fryderyk's ears like the bells of a cathedral before a mass commenced.

_How could Franz just say that to someone so easily? Like it was just so common for a guy to love another guy. What if I had disagreed with his preferences? How could he trust me this much? How could he be so brave!?_

_For a moment there, I thought I'd never get to pose a chance with you, but now you say you like guys! What a coup! But then obviously it isn't me you're in love with! If it was, you wouldn't have asked for advice from me, would you? God, what a predicament I have managed to get myself into! That is so unfair!_ \- Fryderyk would think.

And before Fryderyk could even realize that he had been too engrossed in his own crazy thoughts to notice how long he's been gone silent now, Franz brings him back to reality by being so restless.

Suddenly anxiety had taken over Franz like a late reaction and he suddenly starts rapping, "Look, I know this isn't something you'd hear every day, but I'm serious. I trust you, Freddy. Though you probably hate me now for-"

"Hate you?" Fryderyk cuts in, "How could I ever hate you?" he says, the moment he is brought back to reality. "We both know I am the more selfish one between the two of us, Franz. There is no reason for me to hate you. In fact, I am so glad I was wrong about you. You are not a man at all, it seems!" he says, delighted. "You are an angel! I could never hate you."

And Franz feels at this, in his mind, that he is dead by just the humble compliment from Fryderyk Chopin.

_Freddy isn't even disgusted? He's the real miracle here, not me. Oh, if only I could tell Fryderyk that the man I speak of might have been him, but he'd never forgive me for wanting to kiss him in the night, no. I could never ask such a favour from him. So I guess, I'll have to keep that as a secret forever. -_ Franz thinks.

And so the two slightly relieved men discuss lightheartedly about concepts of love and how there isn't and shouldn't be that much difference between loving someone of the opposite sex and someone of the same.

They don't think that the other needs to know who both of them wants yet. Franz is still unaware of Fryderyk's homosexuality and Fryderyk doesn't know who Franz' crush is. But getting to speak to each other in this comfortable sweet ambience as good friends should more than enough to fill their current needy hearts for the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!!
> 
> Sadly, my holiday break is finally over and I've begun to take my classes again since the fourth asdfghjk I might not be able to update as frequently, but I will try my best uwu hahahaha
> 
> -hey, I edited this a bit so it's a li'l shorter and less confusing, I'd say? anw just thought I'd give that little heads up so no one gets disoriented when they perhaps review the chapter and things start looking a bit different. :))
> 
> Anyway, hahahaha thanks for reading and don't forget comment and share!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed, and have a nice day! aaa
> 
> -菲咪咪 (Fei Mimi) 🌸💕

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading aaa wth hahahhaha can't believe yall are even looking at my works skskkskksk


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